


drinking like it's going out of fashion

by Skyuni123



Series: Brokenwood Fic Week, Feb 2018 [3]
Category: The Brokenwood Mysteries
Genre: Coping, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e01 Leather and Lace, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Humor, sam and kristen are ride or die, they're just shit at expressing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-11 17:11:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13528827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: Sam grieves, Kristen comforts.post Leather and Lace.(Day 3 of brokenwoodfanpage'sfic week!





	drinking like it's going out of fashion

Kristen knocks on the door at about 7.30. It’s a little late for a social call, but she knows Breen and she knows he’ll still be up. Considering the events of the last few days, she doubts he’ll be getting much sleep for a while. 

 

He looks mildly surprised to see her when he opens the door, and even more mildly dishevelled, hair sticking up at all angles. “Kristen?”

 

“Am I interrupting something?”

 

“No…?”

 

She gestures at his hair. “I’m not interrupting the Stick-Your-Hand-in-the-Plug-Socket competition you’re having with Roxy or anything?”

 

He smoothes his hair back and has the decency to look a bit embarrassed. “Was dozing. Badly. Y’know. Roxy’s out.”

 

“At half seven at night?”

 

“Work.” He opens the door further and leans against it. “Speaking of late nights, what are you doing here?”

 

At this point she’s not even sure if Sam actually  _ has  _ a girlfriend. She’s certainly never met her. “I thought you might want to… uh… hang out? I have wine.”

 

It’s an uncomfortable thing to say. They’re good coworkers, knew each other at school, and most definitely have each other’s backs, but planned rendezvous are not exactly their style. However, she knows Sam. She knows that if she was in his position, he’d do the same for her.

Traumatic experiences are the true bond-forger.

Or something.

 

“Oh. Yeah!” Sam looks surprised, but not upset. “Course. Come in.” 

  
  


Sam’s living room is a mess, which far from a surprise. The TV’s on, paused the screen of a game she can’t quite place. He moves a stack of Xbox games off one side of the couch so she can sit down.

 

“Being productive, I see.” She toes her shoes off and sits down in the newly abandoned spot.

 

“Every time I try and sleep I keep on seeing his body.” He hovers awkwardly and sets the Xbox games down on the floor by the TV. “It’s bad when it’s someone you know well, y’know?”

 

“Yeah.” Brokenwood isn't a large district, she’s been there before and will most likely be there again. To distract him, she asks, “Do you have any glasses? Otherwise we’re going to be drinking out of the bottle like uni students.”

 

“You were drinking wine at uni? That’s bougie.” He shuffles out of the room, socked feet rasping along the carpet.

 

“What were you drinking?”

 

“I was getting completely fucked on Purple Goanna and DB, for your information.” He calls from down the hallway. 

 

Purple Goanna. That’s a brand she’s not heard for years. Bad memories. “Classy.”

 

“I stopped drinking Goanna when I got too many heart palpitations to ignore.” He shuffles back in, glasses in hand. They’re stemless, just the sort of thing she’d expect from a ‘bachelor’ pad like his. “Good times.” 

 

She raises her eyebrows at him. “ _ Classy.”  _

 

“I try.” He takes the bottle from her without asking and cracks it open. It’s a cheap sav from the Countdown down the road, but she doubts he’ll really care.

 

Mike would, but then again, Mike’s not grieving right now.

 

“Cheers.” He hands her a glass, then takes his own and sits down next to her. “I know you’re here to stop me from losing it, but I’m fine. Really.”

 

“Really?” He doesn’t  _ look  _ fine.  

 

“Completely fine. Arnie was my coach for a few good years and it’s weird to know about the crossdressing thing now but he was a good guy and-” He stops, suddenly choked up, and leans his head back against the couch. “...Oh god, this really sucks.”

Neither of them are especially good at grieving.

 

“Drink your wine.”

She drinks some of hers too as a peace offering. It’s not especially good, but he downs it like it’s going out of fashion. 

 

“Arnie was one of the good ones, too. It’s a bloody shame.  _ Shit.”  _ He sniffs and scrubs a hand over his face roughly. “Sorry. About this. You know.”

 

Kiwi men. _Honestly._ Emotionally constipated, the lot of them. “It’s fine.”

 

“Yeah.” He doesn’t  _ look  _ fine, but there’s really not much more she can do. “Want to watch a movie? I would offer you  _ Fallout  _ but I don’t think that’s really your kind of thing.” He gestures at the tv screen, still paused on what is presumably  _ Fallout _ .

 

“You thought right.”

 

They end up watching  _ Hot Fuzz  _ which is several layers of irony in itself.

 

Sam, more than a little drunk by this point, falls asleep on her shoulder during the climatic fight scene at the end of the film. 

Kristen settles back into the couch and resigns herself to it. He’s a giant man. There’s no way she’s moving him until he decides to move himself.

Despite the weird angle her spine’s twisted into and the fuzz in her head from the wine, things could be worse.

 

(Roxy never shows.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on my [ tumblr ](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com)


End file.
